trusthell | and it takes, and it takes, and it takes

and it takes, and it takes, and it takes

[It... definitely takes a while for the weekly after-execution note to arrive, but it does --- kind of scrawly and on ripped paper rather than nice stationery.]

EY. YO. WE GOT EFFIGIES IN THE DINING ROOM AND WE'RE GONNA BURN EM.

FOOD TOO. THE USUAL AND HOT COCOA. GOOD FOR THE SOUL. GET SOME. MAYBE TAKE IT BACK TO YOUR ROOM IF YOU HAVE TO. JUST GET SOME.

[Anyway, in the dining room, there's plenty of mugs set out, with a janky looking arrow sign pointing into the kitchen to where you can get your hot cocoa. On the table, there's Vichyssoise, a pot of green tea, and some booze. There's also a cookie tray on the floor away from the table on which to burn the Wordsmith and Kimbley effigies, which are handily placed near the food on the table.

...also if you go in the kitchen without shoes on just. Watch the northern corner. There's no kidneys, but there's a lot of broken plates there for some reason...]

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[Varric had set to wandering the halls after a short stint at the party. He'd be back later, but he'd made a promise. The kid had to be somewhere, and he wanted him to know that there was a shoulder waiting for him, should he ever need it.]

[The paper and pen in front of Mischievous' room was obvious enough. He knelt before it and scribbled something down, then pushed it beneath the doorway.]

This how we're doing things? It's Varric. Can we talk?

[It takes a good while for a response, to the point where it seems like there isn't going to be one, but then the note's slipped back, with a little extra added.]

If you don't mind talking like this. What's up?

[It's easier to sound casual in writing, isn't it?]

[Ready to call it quits, Varric was just starting to rise when the note came back out. Settling down once more, Varric quickly scrawled a response, and pushed it back once more.]

How are you holding up? Can I get you anything. Won't come in, I'll just slide it through the door and we'll pretend like it didn't even happen.

Edited 2017-02-18 22:35 (UTC)

No thank you.

[Well. That was pretty prompt. The handwriting's pretty damn messy, too, but there's only so much he can do with his messed up hand.]

[Alright then. Fair enough. He'll scratch out another response then, not quite willing to give up on him.]

Do you want to see something I wrote?

[There's a pause again, then:]

Sure. What is it?

A story.

[It was easy enough for him to remember the gist of what he wrote for Gold, all of which was written down for the young man to read.]

[At the bottom there was a second note.]

I've met a lot of people and had a lot of friends. Very few have ever been as loyal to me as you two have to each other.

[...It takes a while for him to reply again; when he does, it's on a fresh piece of paper. Looks like he's holding onto that story.]

Is it really that strange? I guess it's because we've been through a lot together.

Thanks for writing that for him. Did you write one for Kimbley too?

[Varric took it as a good sign -- definitely a better reaction than he was expecting. Then again, most people had been taking Varric's efforts better than those back home. If anything was better here than there, it was the people.]

Plenty of people are concerned with one thing and one thing only -- themselves. Not you two. It's a good thing though.

Elda and I both wrote one together. I wouldn't have done it on my own, I don't think. Not with everything that happened, or the person he was before all this. But Elda cared about him, and I wanted to give her something.

You don't have to thank me. It goes without saying that he deserved better than this shit. Both of you did.

[Another pause. It's a pretty long one, but he eventually manages to write out a short and shaky message.]

Kimbley deserved better too.

[We all do, he's tempted to add, but that's not the point right now.]

[This time, when the pause came, Varric didn't immediately resign himself to leaving. He was patient, and almost smiled when that patience was rewarded. The response itself left him feeling uneasy, however.]

I've regretted a lot of shit too. My hands aren't clean -- not even in the slightest. I almost killed my own brother once, damn well might have, if... well that's a long story.

Point is. We've all done some shit. Miserable shit. So if you ever need someone to talk about it with, I'm here. I won't try to dance around what happened, either.

[...You know, at least Silver has the decency to tear off a little piece and write "hold on" this time, because the next part is going to take a little while.]

That's not what I meant. The only part I regret is using fire to kill him, both because he had to suffer through it and Gold and I didn't die together.

[Well, that's happy. But it's honest; they made their decision, they did what they had to do, and there isn't much room for regret, when Kimbley was such a danger to begin with.]

No one deserves to be in here. Not even Kimbley. Not even Kira, even if I hate that guy. I don't know why the Wordsmith brought us here, but this place and these rules are tearing us apart and breaking us down.

Maybe Kimbley would have done something similar if we weren't in this situation, but we don't know that. It took him a month to reach his breaking point. He lost people important to him. Gold and I had a few other good reasons, but we knew what we were doing, and we took our chance. We just had different principles. Kimbley wanted a sure way to get out, while we wanted to give you guys a fair chance.

[If they lived together that would be fine. If they died together... Well, at least they had each other in that pit.]

People keep thanking me for saving them, and I don't like it. Not in here. If he'd just been minding his own business, it would have been the same. But I don't want to point that out. I don't want people to think less of Gold. He's a good person.

I don't know why I'm telling you all of this.

[Probably because he's tired, because he's upset, because everything that seemed to matter before feels a whole lot smaller, and he just doesn't care anymore. Maybe because he had to tell someone. He considers tearing it up and sending something else, but the note gets slipped under the door anyway.]

[In any other circumstance, he might have thanked the kid for his manners. As it was, he simply sat and waited. Drummed his fingers, stared at a particularly interesting speck on the wall. When the note came through, he all but leaped on it. If he'd known it was going to be such a long process, he might have brought a book with him. Not that he would complain -- Silver was listening (reading, maybe) and talking (writing) to him. It was progress.]

[Grateful as he was for Silver's initial courtesy, he made sure to return it, slipping the 'hold on' back under the door as he settled down to write his response.]

I... I missed some of the details, in the height of everything that was happening. Did you kill Kimbley just to die together, or did you want to get out. You mentioned something happening back on your world. You wanted to save it, didn't you.

It's like with Alani, if that's the case. There was a noble cause there. I know I'm probably the only one that thinks like this about the whole thing but... Christ, if I didn't think we had more than a snowballs chance in Tevinter against the thing tearing my home up, I might have done something similar too.

[Not that he'd needed some world-changing cause to consider the motives. This week had nearly pushed him over the edge, might have if not for the Wordsmith himself.]

Sometimes I feel similar about the 'thank yous.' When I write those stories, people applaud, they say it's written beautifully and it feels wrong. I don't like being thanked because of death.

In any case, I still think you're both good people. Wanting to save your friends, maybe even the whole world. I think that's important. I don't hold that against you.

For the record? I'm glad you're telling me. It doesn't do to hold this kind of stuff in.

[It takes less time to reply this time; it's on a new piece of paper, because apparently he's keeping that one too.]

We wanted to get out to fix the mess in our world. That's our responsibility. Our duty.

[Although it feels far, far away right now. Who knows if he'll even see home again? For all he knows, he'll be killed within the week.]

I owe you breakfast sometime. Thanks for hearing me out.

And I'm sorry we tried to pin it on you.

[He squinted at the letters on the page. In the height of everything, he hadn't really been paying attention -- too caught up in trying to maintain both order and comfort in the chaos that had erupted. He'd simply assumed that the evidence had fallen that way naturally -- it wasn't the first time eyes had fallen on him.]

[He cast a bitter glance toward the door, then away once more. He probably should have been angry, and maybe in any other circumstance he might have been. They were just two kids trying to save the world. How many times had he caused a mess for someone else when he and the Inquisitor had done the same thing.]

[And it wouldn't do to be angry right now. It was hard to decipher much via words on paper, but there seemed to be some amount of remorse there.]

It'll be two breakfasts to get me to forgive you of that one, Red. Just the way it is.

I can do breakfast all week, if you want. I'm not asking for forgiveness, either.

[Maybe he should still protest to the nickname Red. He's not sure if he's in a position to do so.]

Breakfast all week then. And I want lots of bacon, too.

[Don't protest, Silver. you're using Varric's preferred medium -- he'll write circles around you.]

I've never made bacon before, but I can try.

[Otherwise, he's not putting up much of a fuss. He's getting off easy.]

[Smart kid.]

Sounds like a plan then.

I need to go check on the girls but... you need anything before I go?

I'm okay. They probably need you more.

Thanks for talking to me.

Not a problem. Take care of yourself.

[With nothing else to say, Varric stood and made his way back to the party. There was still a droop in his shoulders, but he seemed at least a little reassured for the time being.]

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